


Gingerbread Cookies

by through_shadows_falling



Series: Supernatural Ficlets [45]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Cute, Domestic Fluff, M/M, POV Sam Winchester, Schmoop, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 12:29:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5417135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/through_shadows_falling/pseuds/through_shadows_falling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam woke to the smell of cinnamon. He frowned. Dean wasn’t usually up this early, so that had to mean…</p><p>Sure enough, after he’d thrown on some running clothes and padded to the bunker kitchen, he found Castiel hovering near the oven, peeping anxiously through the window at what was baking inside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gingerbread Cookies

Sam woke to the smell of cinnamon.

He frowned. Dean wasn’t usually up this early, so that had to mean…

Sure enough, after he’d thrown on some running clothes and padded to the bunker kitchen, he found Castiel hovering near the oven, peeping anxiously through the window at what was baking inside.

“Uh. Cas?” Sam asked, worried.

Castiel glanced up. “Oh. Good morning, Sam.”

Sam blinked when no explanation was forthcoming. 

“Um, what are you doing?” he asked, even though it was sort of obvious, considering the ingredients on the counter and the dirty mixing bowl in the sink.

“I’m baking gingerbread cookies.”

Sam never would’ve thought he’d hear those words come out of the mouth of an angel of the lord, let alone one dressed like a tax accountant. 

“Why?” 

Castiel smiled faintly. “I enjoy the combination of molecules. They smell good individually, but humans truly created greatness when they brought them together. Also, is this not the time of year when such confections are most produced?”

“Are you saying you’re making cookies in the spirit of Christmas?”

Castiel shrugged. “Yes, I suppose. I find the activity pleasing, and I imagine the results will be–” He cut off just as the smell of burning hit Sam’s nose. 

Castiel threw open the oven and used gloves to remove a batch of gingerbread cookies that had blackened around the edges. He glared at them as if they had personally crossed him. 

“What did I do wrong?” he asked as he set them on the counter. “I followed the directions exactly.” He pointed to Sam’s laptop on the table, where a recipe was visible on the screen.

Sam walked over to see what he could find. He read the instructions out loud. “You set it at 350 degrees?”

“Yes.”

“For ten to twelve minutes?”

“Ten minutes, yes. But they’re already burnt.”

Sam winced. “I know what went wrong. Sorry, we should’ve warned you that the appliances in here run a little hotter than normal ones. You probably should’ve set it at 325 degrees.”

Castiel’s shoulders slumped. “Oh. And now we’re out of molasses.”

“Who the hell is making cookies at friggin’ ass o’clock?” Dean asked as he shuffled into the room in his bathrobe and slippers. He wiped sleep from his eyes and shot a bleary look first to Castiel, and then at the tray of cookies. “You’re baking cookies?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to.”

“Um. Okay. Well, uh, looks like you burned ‘em, huh?”

“I didn’t mean to,” Castiel snapped, petulant. “I didn’t realize your oven wasn’t normal.”

Dean moved to start the coffee maker and then leaned back against the counter. “Heh, yeah, this place is wired weird and this shit is old. I burned tons of crap when we first moved in.”

“That would’ve been nice to know.”

“Geez, don’t bite our heads off,” Dean said. “We didn’t expect you to be cooking or baking or anything like that, so give us a break, man. I mean, you don’t even eat.”

“That doesn’t mean I  _can’t_  eat. And I wanted to…to…” Castiel’s shoulders slumped even further. 

“Wanted to what?” Sam asked gently.

“Wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done. Letting me stay here–”

“Stop right there, Cas,” Dean interrupted. “You don’t owe us anything. You should’ve been in here a long time ago.” His face darkened, and Sam knew he was rightfully thinking of Gadreel.

As the tension in the room mounted, Sam sighed. “I’m going for a run.” He pulled on a beanie and headed down the hall.

An hour later, Sam was sweating and his muscles burned pleasantly. It was cold outside, but in a bracing sort of way, so he felt really pumped when he returned to the bunker. 

Just as he stepped inside, Dean and Castiel nearly barreled into him.

“Whoa, where’s the fire?” he asked, though part of him was serious. Both Dean and Castiel looked flushed and anxious.

“No fire,” Dean said. “We’re going out to get supplies. You in?”

“Supplies for what?” Sam asked slowly.

“For more cookies. You know, flour and sugar and stuff, plus frosting, cookie cutters, sprinkles, the works,” Dean said.

“Wow,” Sam said, but his lips twitched at the excited glint in Castiel’s eyes. “Uh, you two have fun. I’m going to shower.” 

“Okay. See ya.” Dean gave Sam a half-wave, and Sam watched in amusement as they headed toward the garage. And perhaps he was just imagining things, but they both appeared to have an extra skip to their steps.

Sam sniggered and started yanking off his clothes.

After his shower, Sam ate some quick breakfast and then wandered into the library to pick up where he’d left off on a book of obscure lore. He was so absorbed in it that he jumped when Dean and Castiel reappeared sometime later with bulging plastic bags in their hands. 

“Oh my god, did you buy out the whole store?” Sam asked, but Dean just made a face and breezed toward the kitchen, Castiel right behind him.

Sam went back to reading until his stomach rumbled about forty-five minutes later. By then, there were delicious smells wafting from the kitchen. 

Seemed like the second batch had turned out okay. Maybe he would get to sample some.

But when Sam went to check it out, he had to pause just outside the door because of the strange noises coming from inside.

It sounded like… _giggling_?

“Oh my god, Cas, what happened to Sammy’s leg?” Dean laughed.

“Apologies. I smeared the icing.”

“He looks like he’s bleeding!”

“Should I amputate?”

“Wait, no, let me help–”

“Dean, no, you can’t eat your brother–”

“Ha-ha! Take that, Sammy’s leg. Mmm. That’s a good recipe you found. We’ll have to print a copy.”

Was Sam really hearing this? He couldn’t help but grin at the infectious good humor drifting around the corner. 

He stepped into the kitchen and caught the pair red-handed. Castiel clutched a piping bag with red frosting, while Dean held a jar of sprinkles. The counter was smeared with colored frosting and all sorts of other ingredients.

“What’re you doing?” Sam asked, but he couldn’t keep the smile from his face as he noticed the cooling rack on the counter, absolutely full of cookies. 

The gingerbread cookies were indeed done, and this batch had been more than successful. In fact, the gingerbread  _cookies_  were now gingerbread  _men_ , and gingerbread angels, and gingerbread cars, and…was that supposed to be a gingerbread Christmas tree? It looked really deformed.

Not only that, but half of them were decorated. The gingerbread men had clothes and buttons and hair, while the rest had sprinkles and swooping lines.  

“Oh my god,” Sam breathed, but he chuckled when he saw the cookie he’d heard them talking about. The gingerbread man had long hair, an attempt at a red plaid shirt, and only one leg. “You ate me,” Sam accused, staring at Dean.

Dean grinned. “Sorry, Sammy, but you needed to be put out of your decorating misery. And you were delicious.”

“Then  _I_  get to eat  _you_ ,” Sam said, and he reached for the one that was unmistakably Dean, with blue jeans, a green shirt, and two green dots for eyes.

“No!” Castiel cried, and swatted Sam’s hand away. “That’s my masterpiece.”

Sam was going to make a joke about that, but at the way Dean ducked his head, he bit his tongue.

And now Castiel was  _blushing_  and Sam realized what was going on. He was glad that he’d let them go shopping, just the two of them.

“I’ll eat Cas, then,” Sam said, and he grabbed for the gingerbread angel, which wore a sort-of trench coat. But Dean was reaching for it as well, and just as Sam gripped it, Dean knocked his hand and the angel fell to the ground. It shattered into crumbs, and there was silence.

“Sam, what did you do?” Dean demanded.

“I…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“Don’t worry. There’s another angel right here,” Castiel interrupted. He passed Dean a copy of the previous gingerbread angel. “You can decorate this one better now.”

Sam snorted as Dean glared at him.

“What, you saying you didn’t like my decorations before?”

“Can I eat  _any_  of these?” Sam asked, but Castiel cut in.

“I’m not saying I didn’t  _like_  them. I’m just saying you can do better.”

“Oh really?” Dean asked.

Sam rolled his eyes and swiped up one of the gingerbread cars, which had yet to be decorated. He bit off a chunk, hastily snatched up one of the Christmas trees, and then vanished back into the library.

Until he went back for a glass of milk.


End file.
